


stitched together with good intentions

by hissingmiseries



Series: parallel universes [1]
Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: Character Study, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Parenthood, Post-Season/Series 01, The Explorers Don't Come Home And Sam Starts Freaking Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 06:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18959734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hissingmiseries/pseuds/hissingmiseries
Summary: "They were meant to come home days ago," Gordie says. "I haven't heard anything."Oh, Sam signs. His eyes are—very dark.Oh, okay.(Or: the Explorers don't come back. Sam totally isn't freaking out. Not at all.)





	stitched together with good intentions

**Author's Note:**

> i love my melodramatic trash discount _lord of the flies_ tv show okay my children deserve better and campbell can rot in hell #bye
> 
> takes place after the s1 finale; the coup is successful, the guard are running new ham. canon-divergent in the case that the explorer group haven't come home yet. the show is kind of vague regarding character histories so i made some details up for plot purposes. (there isn't really a plot but pffft who said that's important)
> 
> contains: canon-typical themes (politics, violence, etc); canon relationships. focus on homophobia/ableism/disability.
> 
>  **edit** : thank you so much for all the comments and kudos and bookmarks! i love writing for this show. if anybody has any prompts/ideas, feel free to leave them in the comments or let me know on my twitter/tumblr, i'd be honoured to write some!

 

 

 

 

"They were meant to come home days ago," Gordie says. "I haven't heard anything."

 _Oh,_ Sam signs. His eyes are—very dark.  _Oh, okay._

 

-

 

The first time Sam kissed Grizz, it was Thanksgiving night and the stars were up. Grizz had this look on his face like he was looking into an abyss: this careful, unsure thing that flickered across his eyes. Sam was telling him stories and kind of having a heart attack because he's never been this close to Grizz alone and it's just—it's Grizz, okay? It's Grizz.

Grizz who is terrified. Looking at the floor, eyes wet.

 _Can you teach me one more phrase in sign language,_ he asks,  _how do you say, kiss me?_

It feels a bit like his heart is breaking. No, scratch that. Sam feels his heart slip out of his chest and shatter into pieces on the floor, right there on the linoleum. Then he leans in and presses his lips to Grizz's and something in his bones goes  _fuck._

"I'm sorry I never told you before," Grizz says. "It was all me. I've been meaning to do it ever since all of this happened but something always stopped me. The Guard being, well, them, and everything that happened with Dewey or—" But he's looking at Sam, his eyes dim in the lamplight and there's something speculative in the curl of his mouth and the way his hands reach up to tangle in Sam's ratty jumper.

 _It's doesn't matter,_ Sam sighs. His hands move clumsily, they'd much rather be on Grizz's face and Grizz's arms, burrowing into his secrets.  _None of that matters now._

Grizz's hands are shaking, ever so slightly. "I want it to mean something."

 _You sure?_ His mouth is moving, producing the words and it irks him: he wants to know what he sounds like to Grizz, what Grizz hears when he speaks.  _It doesn't have to._ It does, but—y'know. He doesn't want to scare him away.

"I want it to," Grizz says, like a promise. Then he nods and leans in again. Grizz does everything like this: tender and gentle, like a butterfly wing. Of course that's how he'd kiss.

 

-

 

The Guard don't want Becca to live alone. Sam figures that's fair; he wouldn't want to be living alone with a baby, either. He's way too immature for that.

They tell her she can live with Sam in her house. Couples get their own rooms so it would nice and private: they can raise their child in peace and not have to worry about the shitshow that's going down outside. Becca has been kept pretty separate from it all so she asks Sam what's going on, and he shrugs and signs,  _it's a long story._

 

They move in on Sunday. He doesn't have a lot of stuff to bring, just a bag of clothes and a laptop.

There is the baby—small and purple, not really human-shaped yet. She's cuddled against Becca's chest, face turned into the fabric of her shirt.

"She's quiet," Becca says, smiling. She has that maternal glow about her, all bright eyes and adoration.

Sam reaches out with one hand, signs, _s_ _he looks like you_ with the other.

Eden blinks at him, eyes wide and huge, and reaches back.

 

They need a nursery. Becca's house has a stockroom that they could turf out and repaint, and one of the kids has found a flatpack crib in the supermarket; it's not much but it's enough. If New Ham is good at anything, it's starting afresh at the drop of a hat. 

"Take her," Becca says; Eden is squirming in her arms, this bundle of pink blanket and hamster cheeks and one eye cracked open, watching him inquisitively. "I need a shower."

She's heavy. Sam looks down, feels a smile unfurl across his face, big and unstoppable. He'd expected the responsibility to come swinging out of nowhere and kick him square in the chest but it hasn't felt like that: it's crept in in tiny little bits. Like dawn seeping through—one ray at a time, appearing over the hillside until everything is warm and golden. 

He paces around the bedroom, bouncing her slightly. Her face is all crumpled up. She has that new baby smell.

It's kind of stunning, actually, just  _how much_ she looks like Becca. The same nose, the same dimple in between her eyebrows when she wants something. The same smile; big and beautiful, so big it almost comes off the edges of her face. And her eyes—dark, brown sinking into black. Kelly said they looked like Becca's too, but they're a bit like Grizz's.

 

Fucking Grizz.

Sam hasn't heard anything. They've been gone—a while, now. Packed for two weeks, just in case, but it's been nearly three and— well. Nothing.

It shouldn't feel like the world's about to end, but it kinda does. Just a little.

 

To be honest, the world  _is_ sort of ending. At least the world they have now. Allie and Will got arrested and Lexie is there, all of a sudden, but Campbell is lingering behind her like a phantom and well,  _fuck._ That didn't take long.

And Grizz is out there, somewhere.

There are nights when Sam is about to go to sleep and he thinks,  _what if he doesn't come back_ , but then he rolls over and ignores it. He'd promised him, right? Grizz doesn't break his promises. Not to anyone, but especially not to Sam.

 

-

 

Kelly pops round to check how everything's coming along.

It's kind of amazing how much Kelly's changed, at least from how Sam remembers her. She used to be this quiet girl who hung around with Harry but then she like, saved the entire town from antifreeze poisoning  _and_ delivered Eden at the same time.

"She's a good colour," she says, whilst Becca is cradling Eden on the couch and Sam is cooking breakfast. Eggs, runny how they like them. "She has your nose, Becca."

Becca looks so, so tired. She hasn't been sleeping well—Eden has been crying a lot, lately. Sam can't hear it. That shouldn't hurt him as much as it does. "She has Sam's freckles," she says, signing so he can understand.

Kelly grins. "That's a point. I wonder if she'll end up ginger."

Sam gives Becca a look. Just—quickly.

It haunts him, sometimes: whether people will figure it out or not.

Kelly takes Eden and pulls out a thermometer, stethoscope, all sorts of other medical equipment from her bag. Everything's fine, thank goodness. Her heartbeat is strong and all the vitals look good. Then she gives her to Sam and he lights up when Eden reaches for him, all the way through his eyes.

 _Hey_ , he croons, dipping his head to press his nose with hers.  _Love you, baby._

Their eyes are on him, crescent-mooned with their smiles; he must really look like a father, which is good because he sure as hell feels like one. He didn't think he would, especially not so quickly but then she was born and Gordie said  _I don't think she's breathing_ and it had scared the living shit out of him. He's never felt like that before in his life, not even when everyone's parents disappeared or when Grizz stormed out of the hospital, eyes red with tears.

(It took a while for him to be confident enough to hold her. 

Becca was super protective at first, too. It took her a while to let him.)

 

It should not be this easy to kill a baby, Sam thinks. He says nothing to Becca, obviously. Becca has this baby shit down.

Becca has, like, routines and maternal instinct, and she has never once come close to dropping Eden in all the times that Sam has seen her. She gets scared when Eden gets sick or cold, but Sam, like, has an entire conniption fit, so Becca is doing much better in that department.

Gordie comes over a few days later, more to say hello than anything.

"Sam," he says, when Sam tells him his fear; Gordie has nice eyes, caring. It makes sense that he's a doctor now. "Sam, don't worry about it."

 _What if I drop her?_ He read a lot of textbooks when he was in hospital, waiting for Eden to be born.  _The forehead bit doesn't develop fully until nine months._

Gordie smiles at him and bounces Eden in his arms. "Chill out," he says. "She's a tough cookie— _yes you are, aren't you? Yes you are_ _—_ and I've seen you with her, you're an absolute natural. It's normal for the fathers to get worked up like this, okay? You'll be fine."

 

Becca still won't talk about Eden's other dad. The real one.

One time Sam is really sleepy and ends up asking her, again: who is it, where does he live. Is he from New Ham or the old version, with the real jobs and real supermarkets and real  _people_. "Come on, Sam," she says, pointedly. Her hands curl around the signs with bite. "I don't even care any more. I've got Eden, she's all that matters."

He thinks about pushing, about asking if they walk past her real dad in the street every day or sit next to him in the church at meetings but he doesn't want to know, really. He doesn't want to think about somebody else holding Eden, maybe loving her. Calling her  _mine._

God.

Sam can't imagine ever leaving Eden. Not ever. For anything.

She's not even his kid.

But she's got those eyes, y'know, and that smile? He couldn't do it. Impossible.

 

-

 

A meeting gets called. Lots of people don't turn up out of protest, so there are a few empty seats but Sam is there on the front row. 

Lexie looks—not very much like a leader. She looks weak and mean and her arms are folded across her chest very tightly, like she's afraid she might fall apart any moment. The Guard are stood on stage as well, in their jackets. It makes Sam cringe; if Grizz was here, he wouldn't recognise them.

Gordie sits next to him.

 _Have you heard anything about Will and Allie?_ Sam asks.

Gordie shakes his head, silent. "The Guard won't let me see them."

Sam sighs. He was hoping it had all been a bad dream.  _What about Grizz? The explorers?_ Gordie says no and Sam feels himself deflate there, on the pew. Everything really fucking sucks right now.

 

The air is stale as Lexie talks. Her voice carries in the silence and Sam doesn't know what she sounds like but according to Becca, it's somewhere between a cat being ironed and a whiny toddler.  _Be happy you can't hear it_ , she says,  _it's annoying as hell._ Gordie does his best to sign along with the few ones he knows: he skips a word here or there but Sam follows pretty comfortably.

And then she says, "As far as the Committee For Going Home, we have had some news."

Sam straightens up.

"Luckily, Grizz had the brains to take along a flare gun." People start chatting, a gentle hum like the dentist's drill when you go to get your teeth out. "Last night, at about half-past eleven, a green flare was spotted coming out of the woodland. It turns out Grizz had told Allie that he would send up a flare to let us know they were safe, and that—" She takes a deep breath. "—they'd found land."

The church erupts. Sam feels his heart take off behind his ribcage, beating like hummingbird wings, helicopter blades.

She continues. "We're expecting them back by the end of the day."

Gordie signs it, messily. His eyes are sparkling and there's hope in the creases of his face and  _shit_. People haven't looked this happy in weeks;  _Sam_ hasn't looked this happy in weeks.

 

-

 

The day ends. They don't come back.

He does his best not to worry but—y'know.

 

Becca is on bed rest at home after her back started hurting when she walked. Sam gets home and she immediately says, "So?", and he doesn't really know what to say back, so he just signs  _the day probably went quicker than they expected_ and leaves it at that.

 

He holds Eden pretty close, afterwards.

He bobs her up and down and shushes her when she gurgles, nose scrunched up in that threatening way. It soothes her instantly but Sam can't shake the feeling of it, in his stomach.

 _They're just sleeping_ , he says: more to himself, than to her.  _They'll be home tomorrow._

He tries not to think about what happened the last time Grizz went into the woods.

No, Grizz is careful. Grizz is smart, smarter than most.

Obviously nobody can be one-hundred-perfect sure, but—Sam is, he thinks. He has to be. He doesn't want to tempt fate, not now.

 

-

 

The first time Sam slept with Grizz, it was weird and clumsy but honestly, it was one of the best moments of Sam's life. 

Things hadn't escalated quickly. There was no ripping off of clothes or bite marks on shoulders or anything like that.

Sam had wrapped his arms around the long, sprawling line that was Grizz and fit his face into the curve of Grizz's neck, left gentle kisses down its length. Murmured silent words into the hollows of his collarbone and felt the buzz of Grizz's vocal cords as he replied: it didn't matter that he couldn't hear it because he could feel it, and in a way that was so much more. Grizz felt solid and warm, like Sam could hold to him and not worry about him leaving, him walking away.

Grizz had a hand on his cheek, eyes crossing his face in slow, wondering awe. "Thank you," he'd said, hazy with exertion. "You're— you're amazing."

Sam kissed his shoulder. He tasted like salt and safety. It is always hard to trust people but not so much, lately, here in Grizz's arms when everything is so nice and quiet. Where it's just them, and Sam didn't have to worry about the world outside.

 

And then his phone started buzzing, and— yeah.  _That_ happened.

 

-

 

Sam and Becca aren't very good at keeping the house clean. Correction: Sam isn't very good at it. Becca is, but according to Kelly she pulled something in her back during labour and now she's not allowed to bend down or anything, so all she can do is stay put and bark orders at him with blunt signs.

He breaks several glasses, washing the dishes. He has never been especially great at it but this is a little much. 

"Hey."Becca appears from behind the doorframe. Her hair is a mess and there are purple circles under her eyes, but she looks a little better. "Are you okay?"

Sam startles; his body tries to do eight million things at once.  _What are you doing?_ He signs, hurriedly.  _Get back in bed, you're supposed to be resting. Doctor's orders._

Becca rolls her eyes. "She's not a real doctor."

 _I don't care_. Glass is everywhere, bits of it across the floor like stars in the sky.  _Be careful, you'll step on something._ When she goes to help he slaps her hands away, ignores the look of thunder that crosses her face.  _Bed. Now._

"You need bread," Becca remarks, casually. She opens the cupboard door and pulls out a half-eaten loaf, the bag twisted at one end. "It picks up all the little pieces."

Sam sighs. It's not a relationship but there's still somebody who definitely wears the trousers.  _Please go and sit down. You're giving me anxiety._

Her eyebrows fly up but she actually listens to him, for once. The sofa makes a dull hissing sound when she collapses onto it, then winces when her back seizes up in protest. "Christ," she groans, mouth a stressed-out line. "If it wasn't for what you get at the end of it, I'd say pregnancy isn't worth any of this."

 _It didn't look fun._ The bread does—a surprisingly good job. Sam's never tried this trick before but hey, something new every day.  _There was a lot of screaming._

"I'm never having sex again," she remarks, blunt. 

The bin clatters as he chucks the bread in. There are still tiny pieces left over, glittering as the sun streams in through the windows and falls across the floor.  _At least not unprotected._

Becca smirks. There's a knowing glint in her eyes, one that has been there ever since that day she saw Grizz talking to Sam at prom, in his stupid green shirt with his stupid smile on his stupid face. "Only you could manage to be a father completely by accident, when you don't even like girls."

Sam smiles to himself, small and quiet.  _Best accident of my life, though._

Almost as if on cue, Eden begins to gurgle. She's curled up in her crib, cloaked in a blanket that Helena had brought round the other day; hand-knitted and everything. Becca goes to get up but Sam's there in a flash. Like he always will be when Eden needs him, for the rest of his life. Hell, from the grave if he has to. Her arms reach upwards and grope the air blindly, so Sam scoops her up and presses her to his chest and she instantly relaxes, breathing to the beat of his heart. 

Becca tilts her head. Her face has been all stressed and frowny for the past few days but now she's smiling, ever so slightly; she's looking at Sam in this sharp, clear way that Sam deeply, innately trusts. "She loves you so much already. I don't think she cares that you're not her dad. She knows that you are, really. Deep down."

Sam swallows. It's not suffocating, per se, but he can feel the weight of it. It's comfortable.  _Of course I am,_ he says.  _I always will be._

He's such a softie. 

So is Grizz.

Sam doesn't mean to think about Grizz as much as he does but there are times when he wonders what Grizz would look like with Eden in his arms, gazing down at her with that smile he has. The one only Sam has seen: all softness and play, that horribly cute thing he does with the corner of his mouth.

Something waves in the corner of his vision. "Sam," Becca signs, "there's something bothering you, isn't there?"

He shrugs; as much as he loves her, it's sometimes kind of annoying just how well she knows him. Not that he'd ever trade her. Not for the world.

 _It's nothing,_ he replies as Eden tugs at his nose with a musical laugh.  _Don't worry about it._

 

He lies down on the sofa and Becca places Eden on his chest, belly-down. She falls asleep almost instantly.

Sam feels so  _old._ Old and out of his depth, just a little; there's a fucking baby on his chest. An actual human being with, like, fingers and toes and these adorable purple pyjamas. It's—it's a lot, but it also feels right. It feels like he was born to do this, like this is what his entire life was meant for. 

New Ham is big and scary but it's also kind of amazing. 

I mean, he wouldn't get to do this otherwise, would he?

 

-

 

The job for the afternoon is checking the garden. Nice and easy, now he's a father; it's fair to say he's milking it to avoid all the heavy duty.

 

The soil feels nice under his fingernails. It rained earlier, everything is wet. The air smells like mud and autumn leaves rotting in the earth. 

Everywhere he looks reminds him of Grizz. That's kind of his new curse, now: it was never like this in Old Ham but he never knew Grizz back then, never knew what effect those daft eyes would have on him. 

It's not just nice having somebody he can hold, is the thing. He's wanted that all his life, yeah, he never thought he'd get it either. It's the little things. It's how Grizz sings in the shower, and sings when he's gardening, and spends hours with an ASL textbook open in his lap, hands forming words like his entire life hangs on whether he can get the placement right. 

Grizz is funny, and kind, and the way he looks at Sam makes his heart skip beats, sometimes. And he's part of The Guard and that's—obviously not what Sam wants, but he's so fucking brave that he's out there in the woods somewhere with a torch and a few sticks to rub together.

Grizz has this dumb accent and his dumb hair and his weird boyish camaraderie with other jocks. And he always remembers to sign out cupcakes from the cafeteria to bring to Sam, even though they're at opposite ends of town. 

He even holds doors open for him, which is weird and friendly, and it didn't strike him until he realised that shit, he isn't used to that. It's cool, y'know? Grizz always has his back.

(Except when he's off exploring. Sam gets that, though. Greater good and all.)

 

The sky is orange when he gets back home. October brings nice sunsets, not too early, not too late—everything is pink and soft and liquidy and it's times like this when Sam can't wait for Eden to be older so he can sit outside with her and play frisbee, or read books or push her on the homemade swing he's been planning. He never used to be one to think of the future but now he can see his life stretched out in front of him like a fairytale and it takes his breath away, slightly.

Becca is sat up in bed, rocking Eden and singing something under her breath. When she sees Sam come in, she lets out a loud sigh of relief and her eyelids fall like rocks sinking in a pond.

"Thank goodness," she says. "I've been waiting for you to get home. I'm so tired but I didn't want to fall asleep with her here."

 _Get some sleep_. When he takes Eden, she stirs in his arms with a disgruntled  _ugh_.  _I'll keep an eye on her._

 

Becca smiles gratefully; as soon as Eden is gone she dives beneath the covers and is zonked out within the minute. Sam traces her fingers across the fur on his daughter's head and chuckles—her hair is dark, it'll be long and shiny like Becca's is, falling down in waves past her shoulders.  _Aw,_ he grins.  _My girls._

 

-

 

Gordie is really good with Eden. Like, really good. He talks to her like she's a person and brings her stuffed toys and whenever she's fussy Gordie knows how to hold her just right. It's kind of annoying: sometimes Sam gets so frustrated with Eden crying that he texts Gordie,  _mayday, baby won't shut up._

He has his practice and his studying but he always comes over. 

They owe Gordie a lot, really.

Sam does feel a bit bad when it's three a.m., but it's not like he can sleep either when Eden is mad about everything and Becca looks ready to commit. Her little face gets all red and it's really upsetting, to be honest; it tugs on Sam's heartstrings, makes them snap like rubber bands in his chest.

It's just so great when she's happy. She grabs his fingers and giggles and everything about her just lights up, babbling a nonsense string of syllables. It's this pure, innocent delight that Sam doesn't remember feeling in—well, ever, really.

 

It's really late. Gordie is in his pyjamas, on Sam's couch. Eden is a little ball of infant anger in his forearms, until she isn't and suddenly she's snoozing.

 _I don't know how you do it,_ Sam tells him.  _She adores you._

"She adores  _you_." He makes his lips curl around the words obviously, so Sam can read them. These little considerations are nice—he never had these in Old Ham, when Campbell was busy stealing his things and ripping the wings off of their pet bird. "Have you seen the way she looks at you, man? You're the best thing that's happened to her."

Sam smiles, a little deflatedly.  _It's a lot,_ he says. _Not too much, but—a lot._

"We're all here for you," Gordie says. "Well. All of us that actually give a shit. Things are going a bit mad at the moment."

Eden grumbles then, like she can sense the bad vibes. Gordie shushes her and smoothes her head.  _Is there any news about_ —

"About Grizz?" 

There's this knowing thing lingering in his eyes: even in the dim light of the table lamp, Sam can see it, small and mischevious. It makes his insides feel all funny; like somebody's found his secret diary and is reading it back to him.  _About the explorers._

Gordie pauses, presses his lips together. "Nothing yet. No more flares, which is—weird. But they found land, so that's good, right?" 

Eden turns her face and blinks at Sam. She looks thoughtful; there are years of knowledge swirling behind those eyes. God. Every day, she reminds him more and more of Grizz. Grizz's brain and his humour and his light.

"Grizz is smart," Gordie continues. "He knows what he's doing."

 _I'm worried about him._ Sam's tongue feels huge in his mouth, his fingers move nimbly and quietly.  _It's fall. It's going to be freezing, all he has is a tent and a sleeping bag._

"I'm more worried about what he has to come back to." Things are really bad at the minute in New Ham. It's like somebody has dragged a blanket over all the houses and blocked out the sun, made everything a little bit dimmer than before. "He has to look at The Guard giving him the finger, and Campbell's there like something you see during fucking sleep paralysis."

A voice in the back of Sam's head says,  _if he comes back_ , but then he swallows and tries to push it away. Of course he'll come back.  _Language_ , he says, pointing at Eden.

"Oh," Gordie says. "Shit. Sorry."

They laugh together, in the nighttime silence. Eden settles down, then—she cuddles into Gordie's chest, and sleeps without a care in the world.

 

-

 

Dinner in the cafeteria that night is spaghetti bolognese. It's cold, but hey, it's food.

They might not have much left soon.

"This tastes like shit," Kelly says, swirling pasta around her fork. "At least Will could cook."

Ever since Lexie and The Guard took over, the work schedule has fallen apart. Nobody's doing their jobs and the trash is piling up outside everyone's homes, stinking in the sun. It's fucking gross.

Becca is there; her back is feeling better and she has doctor's approval, even if Sam disagrees. Helena's looking after Eden after days of begging to babysit. "We need vegetables," she says. "We need  _vitamins_. My hair feels like straw."

"The guys don't care about vitamins," Kelly says. "If it's not beer or pizza, they aren't interested." There's a new air about her ever since she started studying; she looks sophisticated, she holds her head a little higher than she did before. "I swear, malnutrition will drive us all mad before hunger does."

(Sam totally doesn't think of Grizz out there in the woods, starving.

They only packed enough rations for two weeks, after all; they'll be all out by now.)

 _At least they've found land_ , he signs. The mood needs lifting.  _As soon as they get back, we can start farming._

A look flies across the table. Short and fleeting, but Sam notices it.  _What?_

 

Kelly isn't the best at sign language but it isn't really necessary—the look on her face conveys her tone, the dip between her eyebrows, the frown lines on her forehead. "I don't know if that flare really was Grizz and the committee," she says. "I was talking to Harry and—he says a lot when he's in withdrawal. He thinks Lexie made that whole thing with the flare gun up, to stop people from freaking out. I mean, the last thing she needs right now is a rebellion. People go crazy when they realise the end might actually be nearby."

 _Oh_ , Sam says. The spaghetti begins to swim on his plate, beneath his eyes.  _Shit._

 

He goes to the bathroom, and when he comes out, Becca is there.

"Tell me what's wrong," she demands. Sam can tell she's worried because her knuckles are white and she has that tightness to her jaw, the tendons in her neck visible. "You've been acting weird for days."

He acts dumb, signs lazily back.  _Nothing._

They've known each other too long, too closely. "Don't bullshit me." Her arms cross for the  _bullshit_ ; it makes Sam think of Grizz again, as if he needed fucking help. He wants that green shirt, the stupid tie—he wants to feel them in between his fingers again with pop music playing in the background, eyes soft with alcohol. "We've got a baby, Sam, you can't afford to be distracted."

That—offends him.  _Eden is everything to me._ He thinks his voice sounds louder—his throat is buzzing.  _Don't challenge me on that._

She blinks. "I'm not."

 _Good._ It takes a lot of energy to not storm off in a huff.  _I'm just worried._

"About Grizz?"

 _About everything._ That's not entirely untrue. Not when Grizz kind of  _is_ his everything. Grizz and Eden and Becca: the three things he needs. He can't lose any of them. It would kill him. He would rip him apart, there'd be hurricanes and tsunamis and every sort of disaster he could bring upon this shitty town and its shitty people.

Becca's mouth twists to the side. She looks like she doesn't believe him, but her shoulders rise and fall and okay, she'll accept it. "Fair enough." Then, "you're not alone, you know. You can talk to me about anything."

Sam nods.  _I know._

There are just—things he doesn't want to tell her.

Things that are just his and Grizz's, no one else's. The world is big and scary and Grizz feels safe; like Sam could give him his heart and not have to worry about it breaking. Not have to worry about him not being there in the morning. Being his fucking experiment or something like that.

He'll be fine. Grizz will be fine.

It's his new mantra:  _everything's going to be fine._

 

_-_

 

Sam is not fine.

Sam is definitely not fucking fine.

 

Another day passes and the explorers don't come home. No flares, no smoke signals—nothing.

People are starting to get antsy. Sam is starting to go fucking mental.

 

If he didn't have a daughter, you can bet your arse he'd be head-first into those woods, tearing trees out by the roots, following every set of tracks until he found him.

He's not particularly religious but there are days when he sits in the church. Tilts his head up to the heavens and thinks,  _I've only just found him._ Thinks,  _please don't take him away from me. Not yet._

 

-

 

Eden always calms him down. It must be hormones or something but whenever he's stressed, Sam just has to find Eden and pick her up and see her laugh and it's like a wave or something, a sedative being pumped through his veins. 

She's so  _small._ So fucking fragile. No, not fragile—she's Becca's kid, she'll be strong as steel. She'll have a loud voice and a sharp mind and he'll teach her to sign: all the swear words to make her laugh, of course. Somebody who doesn't know what it was like before, who doesn't remember all the times her dad was pushed around, slammed into lockers.  _Faggot_ , chasing him down the hallway like a bad dream.

 _Nobody will touch you_ , he tells her. Eden looks up at him, silent.  _I won't let them._

He means it; he would move hell and earth for the little bundle of pink in his arms right now. 

 

-

 

Becca goes over to Helena's for a girls night. They've got popcorn and they're going to paint nails and Sam says,  _go for it, it will do you some good_ , so she does.

 

Sam is downstairs. It's late, the moon is up. He's baking cookies and he has to be careful because he can't hear the timer, so his eyes are on the oven for a solid fifteen minutes. When they're done, the air smells like chocolate and vanilla extract and it hits him, just how long it's been since he actually ate something that has taste _._

The cookies are really good. Soft in the middle, exactly right. 

He leaves them out to cool on the side. He can't hear the baby monitor but the lights are flashing so he heads upstairs; it's probably feeding time, there are a few bottles of milk in the fridge.

 

Campbell is there. He's holding Eden; she's squirming in his arms like she wants to get away.

Sam freezes. Every muscle in his body just—  _What are you doing?_

There's that, that shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "She's a peach, isn't she?" His face lowers to hers and suddenly Eden is that baby bird, wobbling around with blood dripping from where its wings used to be. "My little niece. I'm proud of you, Sammy. Didn't realise you had it in you."

 _Put her down._ Everything else goes hazy. He doesn't care how Campbell got in, how long he's been there. He doesn't care about any of that, he'll forgive it. He just wants Eden.  _Put her_ down _, Campbell._

"Does she have a name?" Her little face is so red and puffy. "Should be something like Lynette, you know, like our mom."

It's—his veins are hot. Like, fucking furious.  _Give her to me. She's upset, give her to me._

Campbell smirks. "It's cause she doesn't know me. Her own uncle." When he bounces her it's too rough, too angry. Red hot anger flashes across Sam's eyes; he's never wanted to kill anybody before but right here, right now he could. He'd gladly rip his head off. "I can't believe you never told me, you asshole."

Sam blinks.  _Never had the chance._

"Well," Campbell says. "We've met now. You should bring her over sometime. I know Elle would just  _love_ to meet her, she likes pets and stuff."

 _She's not a pet_ , he grumbles. Then,  _come on, Campbell, give her to me. She wants her dad._  

There's a pause. Campbell's eyes are empty. It's something he's always hated about his brother: he's so unpredictable. This hollowness swallows him whole and there is nothing there. Then he says, "okay," and walks over so close that Sam can feel his breath on his cheek, stinking of beer. "Here you go. Support her head."

He feels better as soon as Eden's in his arms; she's okay, no bruises or anything. Her whining stops instantly and something darkens in Campbell's face like he's just lost a bet.

Fingers click in front of Sam's face. When he looks up, Campbell says, "Lexie's gonna hold an emergency meeting this afternoon. Be there."

 _What's it about?_ Something in his heart flutters, could it be—?

A hand claps onto Sam's shoulder. "Just be there." And then he's gone, out the door and round the corner and Sam goes so fucking dizzy, he has to sit down.

 

-

 

When Sam was six, he moved into Old Ham with his brother and his parents and he thought, at the very least, he might get a dog out of it. He had always wanted a dog.

Instead, he got a psychopath brother and a horrible school. And that would have been alright except—the smell came back and it turned out that their parents might have something to do with everybody disappearing.

So that's something.

 

Six months ago today is when they all vanished.

He's being selfish. He should be with his family; with Becca leafing frantically through parenting books, with Eden snuggling her face into the belly of her teddy bear. But what else could the meeting be about but Grizz, or the explorers and whatever news has come through? 

 _You stay home_ , he tells Becca, and she's too tired to complain. It's not like she likes Lexie, anyway.  _I'll be back before midnight._

 

-

 

The church is bustling. A few are still salty over the coup but most people seem to have put that aside at the big capital letters in the group text that blared across town like a klaxon: _EMERGENCY MEETING @ 6PM._

Lexie looks exhausted. Harry does most of the talking; he doesn't look very mayoral either, with his shirt untucked and his shoes untied but The Guard stand up there with him and it obviously makes him feel safer. It's kind of scary, now—to think The Guard used to be genuine, to think Grizz used to be one of them.

Nothing comes up about the explorers until a ginger girl in the front row stands up and says,  _what about the committee?,_ and,  _they were due back ages ago._ It gets people talking, and Sam kind of wants to hit something. None of these people give a shit about Grizz, not like he does; none of them would, like, worry if he died. It'd be just like that girl with the snakebite. There would be a quick funeral and then, nothing. Somebody would kick the cross on his grave over by accident and not bother to put it back.

"The committee—" Harry begins. He stutters a lot. "—are still doing what they do best. No activity has been seen or reported but we have every faith that they've found land and are on their way back."

The girl grimaces. "It's been three weeks, nearly four."

"I know," he says. Kelly is a few seats down, signing rapidly to Sam but her hands are lagging and stumbling over the words. It's hard to concentrate on so many things at once. 

Someone else pipes up: a boy, blue-eyed. "And if they don't come back?"

Harry and Lexie exchange a look. "It is a possibility," he says. "If the committee doesn't return, we will—" It looks like he's weighing up his words: deciding if what he's about to say is worth the inevitable reaction. Sam's heart is sinking, down to his stomach. "We will _not_ be sending out a search party. The mayoress and I agree that we don't want to risk losing more lives over it. Let's be honest, it'll be a more of a sign that anything: if they don't come back, we'll know not to send people out on foot. There's clearly a bigger threat out there than we know."

That—doesn't go down well.

It doesn't go down well at all.

 

-

 

Sam writes things, sometimes. He's always liked books and stuff but then he met Grizz, and Grizz would practise his sign through telling him stories and fairytales and snippets of history. The reign of Henry VIII, or rumours about Reagan's presidency or scripture from the Bible. Random things he found fascinating, because this is Grizz and he has a mind bigger than the solar system. 

He's been writing letters.

Postcards, really. He found some stacks of them in the supermarket; glossy photographs of West Ham in the sunlight. Why anyone would want to come to West Ham, though, he doesn't know; it's not like it's a tourist hotspot. Just another cookie-cutter suburb where kids randomly go missing like something out of a Stephen King novel.

Grizz likes Stephen King. He likes  _The Shining._

Sam wants to read it. He wants to know as much as possible when it comes to Grizz. He wants to know everything.

 

Becca finds one of these postcards, one day.

"What," she asks, holding it up, "is this?"

Sam goes very pale very quickly.  _It's a postcard._

"No shit, Sherlock." One hand signs the words whilst the other turns the card around, her eyes dart across the scribbles on the back. "Did you forget that we don't really have a postal service any more, or that there's a phone in your pocket or something?"

 _I wasn't going to post them_ , he admits.  _I was—just going to keep them. For memories, like._

Her eyebrows fly up in disbelief. "Right," she says. "You're writing love letters—"  _They aren't love letters!_ "—for historical purposes. Come on, Sam." She sits down on the sofa with a huff. Eden is in her crib, unperturbed; she's probably gotten used to the general irreverence in this town. "Who are these for?"

His hands move quick, urgent.  _Nobody._

"Sam." Becca is kind of scary when she's firm. Her eyes go all hard and beady. It breaks through his facade like it's made of paper. 

 _It's not for me to tell,_ he says.  _It's not for me to out him like that._

Becca presses her lips together. "It's Grizz, isn't it?"

How the fuck— panic flashes across his eyes, too quick for him to stop it. There are times when Sam hates just how much of an open book he is, how easy he is to read. Campbell doesn't have any emotions and Sam has all of them, it's a crummy deal. 

She lets out a long sigh; she looks like she has been expecting this. "I knew it. You've been acting so weird, all you do is talk about him."

 _It's—_ he begins, but there's no point.  _Please don't tell anybody. It's no one else's business. I'm still Eden's dad, I will_ always _be Eden's dad._

To be honest, motherhood has changed Becca. Sam didn't realise it at first but it becomes obvious in moments like this: he remembers the bratty girl, all shrill voice and no sense of humour but now she's older. She's calmer. She leans back and closes her eyes and says, "It's okay, Sam." Says, "You deserve to be happy. Especially if we're stuck here. I wouldn't ask you to hide who you really are, not ever." One eye cracks open: suspicious, protective. "Does Grizz want to be with you, too?"

His fist flies up to sign  _yes_ , but—  _I don't know. I think so._

Becca frowns. That motherly instinct has bled over everybody she cares about. "Don't let him mess you around."

_Grizz isn't like that._

"Hmm," she says. "No men ever are." It strikes him, right there and then, that maybe Eden's dad—her  _real_ dad—said the very same thing.

 

-

 

A month passes. Sam is marking them off on a calendar, just—little red crosses.

 

He's raking leaves on the lawn. Red and yellow and purple, fall colours. The nights are closing in and the clouds are thickening up, plump and grey; winter is coming fast. He can't wait for snow. When Eden is old enough to toddle, you bet Sam will be taking her out in a bobble hat and mittens, throwing snowballs and making snow angels and building snowmen higher than houses. It's the ultimate therapy; whenever things look a bit shit, he just thinks about all the years she has ahead of her and everything feels so much better.

Gordie walks up to him. He's wearing a padded coat that's about three sizes too big. "Hey."

 _Hey,_ Sam smiles.

"You're getting ready for a haircut, dude." He's right: his hair has been snaking down past his ears, tickling his neck. "I'm good with a pair of scissors if you need them."

 _After what you did with Eden,_ he says,  _I would trust you with anything._

That makes him smile. Gordie used to be the quiet nerd who nobody really spoke to but now he's saving everybody's lives, everybody  _owes_ him their lives. "I, erm. I came to tell you something." His face falls, eyes dropping to the road. "It's about the explorers."

All the light in the street turns to him. All of Sam turns, every atom in his body; he wonders when he started doing that, at the mention of Grizz.  _Go on._

"I overheard The Guard talking, they were in the med centre 'cause one of them cut his finger or something. For military men, they aren't very good at keeping secrets." His hands shake as he laughs. "One of them—I don't know if this is true, but they didn't know I was listening. One of them said they saw some of the trees nearby being cut down. He was up in the church spire, on look-out." He shrugs. "I can't think of who else it could be."

Sam isn't freaking out, not at a— Sam is freaking out. Sam is totally freaking out.  _How nearby?_

Gordie swallows. "If they could see it from the spire, then it must be pretty close. They must be on the way back."

 

-

 

Once, Helena was at Becca's, babysitting. Becca was in the med centre for her check-up and Sam was on trash duty, and he came home at like nine o'clock at night to find Eden on Helena's chest, chewing on her shirt collar.

 _Sorry about that_ , Sam grinned.  _That's a nice shirt._

Helena just chuckled. "She's a nice baby."

Later, Helena went home and Eden looked up at Sam with those big black eyes, and he just got this feeling, like, overwhelming. Like he wanted to cry and laugh and dance and scream all at the same time.

 _I love you_ , he whispered, into her hair.  _I wish you could hear me. I love you so much._

 

It was— he doesn't know what it was, but. It was alright. He felt a lot better afterwards.

 

-

 

They come home the next day.

 

It isn't ceremonious. It's just one minute nobody is there, and then suddenly they are. All of them, dirt-stained and skinny, backpacks looking a lot less full than they were when they left. 

Grizz looks—fuck. He looks rough. But he's  _there_ ; tangible and corporeal and fucking  _alive._  

 

Sam doesn't find out that he's back until another emergency meeting gets called. Everybody is irritated and grumbling about  _what the hell do they want this time_ but then the explorers stand up from the front row and the silence that descends is probably the loudest thing Sam has ever heard; it's a different type of silence to what he's used to. People's faces are awe-struck and their mouths O-shaped and in the middle of it all is Grizz, on that stage. 

Their goodbye plays over and over in Sam's head: two fingers,  _I'll see you soon._  

Of course he kept his promise. This is—this is  _Grizz._ Everything is Grizz, all of it. He wants it to be, for the rest of his life. If Grizz wants it. For as long as Grizz wants it too.

 

They did find land. They found a pond and fish and turkeys and a field the size of a football pitch. The soil is fertile and apparently it's only about an hour east of the town centre; it just took so long because they followed the most awkward route possible and then Grizz lost his compass and it— everything went to shit, basically.

The meeting ends and everybody flocks to the group to say hello, to find out any ugly details.  _Did you have to hunt animals,_ and  _We were all so worried about you._

Sam hangs back. 

His eyes catch Grizz's through the crowd.  

Nothing has ever felt like this before, ever. The way his legs go all numb, all shaky. The way his heart kind of just, stops. It's painful but like, the best type of pain ever. 

He slips out of the hall quickly and quietly, like a shadow. Grizz will follow him. He knows it.

 

-

 

"Are you alright," Grizz asks. His hand is skating over the soft skin of Sam's forearm. "A lot has happened since I went, huh?"

They are in Sam's bedroom. The curtains are drawn, the door locked. Becca agreed to take Eden for a few hours; she shot Sam a look but the corner of her mouth was turned upwards and she winked at him as she left. 

 _It's alright,_ Sam says.  _I mean, it's not alright, everything's an absolute mess. But you're back, so things are looking up, I'd say._

"I thought the woods were eventful." Flakes of dry blood cluster up in Grizz's hairline; Sam makes mental note to ask him about that, later. "But looking back now, they were actually quite peaceful. Just a tent and a campfire. It was bliss."

 _As if_ , Sam quips.  _I wasn't there._

Grizz scoffs, wraps his arms around Sam's chest and pulls him in a little closer. He's so warm, so gentle. "No, you weren't. No wonder I was so bored." 

 _You weren't bored._ Sam hasn't smiled this big, this wide in quite a few weeks; it hurts his face.  _You had my book to keep you company._

"Yes, I did." He tells Sam about reading it to everybody in the field and it makes Sam fall in love with him all over again, in every single way. "It's a very good book, right up my street. I can see why you like it."

_I reread it a few days after we first spoke. Spoke properly, in the library._

Grizz chuckles. "When I humiliated myself with BSL, you mean."

 _You didn't_ humiliate  _yourself,_ Sam laughs, placing an errant kiss on Grizz's collarbone. There are a few dark bruises peppered on the pale skin; he didn't mean to mark him as  _mine_ but what can he say, he got carried away.  _It was cute. I've never had people make the effort because they_ want _to, not because they have to._

"Yeah, well." His voice dies away, the buzz in his throat weakens. "You'll have to teach your baby, now, won't you."

The guilt comes out of nowhere; it hits him like a punch in the stomach. Grizz's shoulders are all hunched and his face is all coiled up, and Sam feels like absolute shit all of a sudden: he doesn't regret Eden, he could never regret Eden a day in his life but the deal with Grizz is another issue. He could tell him the truth. Grizz would understand, right? Even if he didn't—they could still be together. It's not like it's abnormal for gay guys to father kids and then meet the loves of their lives and balance the two. Life is too short to not find a compromise.  _I'm sorry._

Grizz rubs a hand over his mouth. "It's not—"

 _It_ is  _my fault,_ he argues.  _She's my daughter._

"It's a daughter?" Grizz goes kind of soft at that. His eyes go all lazy and liquidy. "That's cute."

Sam lets his head pillow onto Grizz's shoulder. He could lie like this forever, limbs stretched out like a sleeping cat.  _Her name is Eden._

"Eden," Grizz echoes. "Like the Bible."

He nods. _Like the Bible._

"I'm sorry I freaked out." It sounds honest; Grizz is smiling most of the time but now he isn't, his face is smooth and pink-stained and even with the wind chill, it's the most beautiful thing Sam has ever seen. "It was a lot to take in very quickly, when I saw you at the hospital. I didn't think— it didn't make sense in my head."

Sam turns his face into the pillow.  _Nothing really makes sense at the minute._

"Getting lost in the woods was a blessing, to be honest. It gave me a lot of time to think." He hesitates. "I even came out to someone."

 _You did?_ Sam asks, straightening up. The duvet slips and skims his legs.  _That's amazing._

Grizz chuckles. "She was kind of trying to come on to me, but it's the thought that counts, I guess. But it was a lot easier than I thought it would be. The world didn't fall in, so—that's something, I guess."

He's absolutely fucking bursting with pride.  _The world fell in when we got off of that bus. Now we have a chance to rebuild it, and you can be_ you _while we do._

Dust floats in the air, glimmering in the slips of moonlight which peek through the moth-bites in the curtains. Grizz peers down at Sam with a smirk; says, "You're a good speaker, y'know. You should have run for mayor."

Sam pummels a fist into his side, light and playful.  _Shut up._

Something tugs at the corner of Grizz's mouth. Either a smile or he's trying not to cry. "Like I said," he sighs, "I'm sorry."

 

Sam stirs a little beneath Grizz's fingers. He reaches his hand up to that mop of dark unruly hair that feels like silk when he runs his fingers through it; it could do with a wash but he still smells like Grizz, all intelligence and cheap beer and stress. New Ham is a mess but it won't take this from him— he won't let it. He'll fight The Guard himself if he has to.

"I'm going to tell the other guys," Grizz says, eyes closed. "I mean—I think Luke had an inkling because he's the only other one with a brain cell. But Clark and Jason? Dumb as rocks."

_Are you going to stay with them? They follow Lexie and Campbell, now._

His nose scrunches up, like a disgruntled puppy. "I don't know. Probably not. That's not me."

Sam smiles, more relieved than anything.  _You're too nice._

"I'm not a moron."

 _That too._ There's a lot happening in his eyes, in his face, in the constellation of freckles across his nose. Sometimes he catches Grizz counting them, like he's trying to find patterns.  _Trust me. You're too good for them._

"You, erm, you can try and talk to me again," Grizz begins. "About everything. Eden and Becca and Campbell, if you want." They used to talk about almost everything: his deafness, Grizz's tap-dancing, the years spent in the closet like the Pevensie children. "I promise I'll listen this time. I won't get mad at you, I won't—accuse you of all sorts. I'm not the best at it, but I'll try. I promise." Now Sam's looking more closely he can see the bruises on Grizz's arms, the thin little cuts from wayward branches and yellow bumps of nettle stings; his heart swells, just looking at him. He's so beautiful. 

 _If I start talking,_ Sam warns,  _I'll never stop._

Grizz smiles. Big, all teeth. "That's perfect," he says, and Sam thinks he might be welling up. “I don’t want you to stop."

 

-

 

Becca comes back with Eden a few hours later. They've both showered and dressed by then, sat on the sofa together. Grizz starts when she walks in but Sam places a hand on his chest, shakes his head and Grizz relaxes a bit.

"Hey," she says, eyes darting between them. "Nice to see you, Grizz. We were all getting worried about you."

He laughs; he's probably sick of hearing that by now, but it's nice to know people care. "With everything that's happened, I kind of wish I'd stayed. But then again—" His gaze drops to the blob-shaped thing in her arms, the thing that's stirring awake after being fast asleep all day. "—I would never have gotten to meet this little one."

The gears in her head turn visibly for a second or two. Then she says, "Wanna hold her?"

Grizz's eyes widen like a kid at Christmas. "Can I?" The same thoughts flicker across his face, the same ones Sam thought all those weeks ago.  _What if I drop her? What if I—_

"Course you can," she smiles.

 

He's a natural. Eden looks up at this unfamiliar face with a sweet, silent curiosity. A  _hello, where did you come from?_

"Wow, Becs," Grizz breathes. "She looks like you."

Becca looks at the two of them, sat right there on the ratty living room sofa, and it feels so unconditionally, irrevocably perfect. It could be an oil painting in this lighting: the orange haze of the lamp and Sam's eyes, glittering like two stars, welling up with love.

"Yeah," she says. She thinks she's crying too, ever so slightly. "I get that a lot."

 

-

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come and say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bartonholla) and [tumblr](https://turnerkanes.tumblr.com)! ♡
> 
>  **edit** : sequel coming soon bc i couldn't help myself


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